


Scales

by Induly33



Category: Original Work
Genre: Defying Stereotypes, Fairy Tale Elements, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, dragon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23514010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Induly33/pseuds/Induly33
Summary: For most of her young life, Cephras has only one job; to keep the last Litskan dragon alive. After a little bit of Mankato's mischief, the pair suddenly find themselves having unexpected, even unwelcome encounters with people belonging in fairy tales. In this short story, Cephras has to decide whether isolation and staying together will be enough to keep him safe instead of freedom.
Relationships: Cephras & Mankato, Cephras & Mankato & Lock





	Scales

To Logan,

Who loves Mankato, all dragons, honestly, as much as I do. I’m happy that I met you. You’re an extraordinary Draconian Friend.

Happy Birthday.

Her foot stomped in a puddle, water splashing into the penny-sized hole in the corner of her left boot. She dodged the bush and stocky trees, sharp branches snagging and tearing into her clothes, into her skin, the sound of a hammer pounding another decree into the baker’s wooden post.

Pound.

Pound.

Pound.

Schick.

Schick.

Schick.

The queen was on the hunt. Needing to hide her friend, the girl rushed to the cave, only to realize that he was gone.

She dashed into the clearing, sunlight striking her face blindingly as she tried not to panic. This was the last place, the stupidest place he would go, he couldn’t be that-

There he was. 

“There you are, Cephras!” The dragon said, beaming at his human friend, a girl of fifteen. Cephras was not amused. “What are you doing here? Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?” she glared at him but his cheerfulness didn’t waver. “The sun feels so good,” he sighed,” why don’t we do this more often? Sunlight is good for your health,” He stretched as if he was a kitten despite the fact that he was the size of a bungalow, his wings furled, pale green paper curtains laced with bone. Horns longer than her arms, strong, the color of corn silk, extended past his head like laurel wreaths.

“Mankato, we need to get you back in your cave. Now.” Her voice was stern, but the dragon protested,” But it’s grass! There’s no grass in the cave.”

“What if you were discovered?” Cephras tugged on one of his tree trunk sized legs and it didn’t budge, “Humans-”

“-Humans never come to this place, Cephras. It’s perfectly safe. Besides, I would have fended for myself if they did.” But it wasn’t safe. Just because humans mostly stayed at their farms and villages a few miles away didn’t mean he wouldn’t be discovered. Cephras didn’t want to take that chance. She pointed towards the direction she came, “Cave. Now.” He grumbled under his breath about nagging nursemaids as he obeyed. She scanned around the area, pulling her forest green hood over her face, obscuring her sandalwood skin and long dark curls from sight. There was no one. She turned around and saw the dragon loitering near some flowers.

“Hey!”

Caught, the dragon sheepishly turned away from the flowers and moved on, Cephras trailing behind him. Her eyes scanned the foliage for movement. Judging by the queen’s biweekly reports posted in the village, the queen’s soldiers had gotten better at blending in with their surroundings and casting spells. Ordinary weapons didn’t cause much damage to dragons, not even their underbellies, but magic…She shuddered. She didn’t want to think about it.

She was trying to remember if she had enough yarrow root for an illusion spell when she tripped and fell flat on her face. The dirt muffled her curses as she got up and glared at the sky. Of course.

“Hello there!”

Cephras let out a curse so loud it scared all the neighboring birds off their branches. She unsheathed her dagger from her belt and pointed it towards the direction of the voice.

A young man was sitting in front of where she tripped. He looked a few years older than her, not even a hint of beard, blending in with the trees by his oak-colored hair and tan skin. His old-fashioned grey tunic and brown pants were spattered with mud. The most peculiar thing about him, however, was his small leather satchel bursting at the seams. She didn’t remember seeing him before she tripped. He didn’t seem very concerned about the dagger in front of his face.

“How do you do?” he asked politely.

“Who are you?” she demanded,” Why are you here?”

“My name’s Lock,” the man said,” And I used to live in the capital a few years ago before I got trapped in a box.”

She gave him a look. She wasn’t stupid.

“Look down,” He pointed at her feet. There was a little broken red square box decorated with gold filigree. “Why should I believe you?” she asked.

He patted his satchel, causing its contents to clash and ching with each other, “Look at me, kid. There is no way I could have ran in front of you without getting your attention.”

She examined him shrewdly. He had a point.

“And now,” his voice had the tone of a merchant that was offering a great deal,” as thank you for rescuing me from that horrid little box, I, Lock the Treasure Collector, shall grant you a boon. What would you like?”

“That’s not necessary,” she tried to walk past him, but he grabbed her sleeve, pulling himself up.

“Of course, it is. You deserve a reward!”

“People don’t give people prizes for having a nice fall.” She removed his hand but he was undeterred.

“I want to give you a gift.”

“No.”

“It can be anything you want,” he offered.

“Cephras?” Mankato’s voice called,” Are you all right?”

“Cephras?” the man looked intrigued. Cephras straightened, her smile firm as she gritted through her teeth, “Please go away,” The last thing she needed was a human discovering Mankato. Bushes crackled, twigs snapping as the dragon appeared, like he had been summoned. “Cephras, what is taking you so long? I-oh,” his eyes widened when he saw Lock. To his credit, the treasure collector didn’t react violently at all, instead he smiled warmly at the dragon, “Hello there,”

“Are you real?” The dragon’s eyes widened even more.

“I would hope so,” Lock replied, “It would be a rather nasty shock if I wasn’t.”

She imagined his scales around a pale slender neck. Her grip on her dagger tightened. She stepped closer. “What brings you out here?” the dragon asked.

“I was trapped in a box,” Lock replied,” You?”

“I live here.” The dragon blinked.” I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,”

She wanted to smack him. Lock nodded, “I imagine so. I owe a boon to your friend over there. She rescued me.”

Mankato nodded, “Of course she did, Cephras rescues everybody-every caterpillar and chipmunk and-” Cephras interrupted him, otherwise they’d never go home. “Oi, Mankato, don’t you need to be somewhere?” she grumbled.

“Wait a minute, you can’t just leave,” Lock protested, “I still have to give you your boon!” Cephras cast her eyes to the sky,” For the last time, I don’t want your boon! Go away!”

The treasure collector looked torn,” I can’t do that. You helped me so my contract says I have to reward you.”

“You’re not giving her enough time to think,” Mankato told him,” Why don’t you come home with us?” Lock’s eyes widened, “Can I really?”

“No.” Cephras said firmly, “We don’t like visitors.”

Mankato rolled his eyes at her, “Oh, come on, Cephras. He isn’t going to hurt us.”

She glared at the dragon,” How do you possibly know? Did you suddenly become telepathic?”

“If he did, he would already be dead,” The dragon shrugged. She could feel the dragon’s pleading eyes. She turned to Lock.

“If you even think about harming Mankato, this forest’s magic will kill you.”

His eyes were grave, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Mankato chirped in delight, “Then it’s settled! Quick question; what are your feelings about grass?” Her dagger was still unsheathed.

***

“Eat your ember beans, Mankato.” Cephras crossed her arms, glaring at her friend.

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Mankato complained,” I’m thirty-five years old!”

She snorted,” Please. You’re nine years old in human years. Sharpen your claws and eat your beans. You don’t want to catch fire flu.”

“Fire flu?” Lock asked. Both Mankato and Cephras ignored him.

“I’m not going to get fire flu. You have to be around other dragons for that to happen,” he muttered, sulking as he stomped away, carrying his bucket of ember beans and coal peppers, the handle clenched between his teeth. Cephras sighed, shaking her head.

“What’s fire flu?” Lock asked.

She sighed,” It’s a sickness that weakens dragons’ ability to breathe fire. The best way to prevent it is to eat a lot of ember beans and coal peppers.” Cephras eyed the treasure collector, “How long are you going to stay?”

“Probably until I grant your wish. But to be honest, I’m homeless and have no backup plan so it would be great if you let me stay a while.” He shrugged.

Hearing this, Cephras dug into her pockets, pulling out a long piece of paper scribbled with ancient runes and a never-empty ink-filled quill, placing them in front of Lock, “Sign this.”

The treasure collector eyed it suspiciously, “What is it?”

She gave him a look,” It’s a contract that makes you unable to help the queen or her allies capture Mankato without suffering dire consequences.”

“Such as?”

“Being impaled with a thousand knives or shriveling like a raisin. Whatever I feel like.”

“With that offer, how can I possibly refuse?” he muttered, but he took the quill and signed anyway. Satisfied, Cephras took the items, threw them in the air, and snapped her fingers, making them vanish. One less thing to worry about.

***

The next day, Lock was still at the cave. He had been hovering over Cephras’ spell books, her pots and pans, her shoes, muttering, “Fascinating,”

Cephras, on the other hand, didn’t feel like life was very fascinating. “Come on Mankato, don’t be such a baby!”

The dragon squirmed, “But I don’t like getting my claws trimmed!”

“Why do you have to do that for?” Lock asked, glancing briefly away from the bookshelves. Cephras wrestled with one of the dragon’s legs, knowing full well that while he would squeal, he would never risk scratching her, “Because dragon’s claws are very similar to squirrel teeth. If you don’t take care of them, then they will start to curve inwardly which would make it extremely painful for them to walk.”

“I see,” Lock said. She focused on trimming the dragon’s claws while making note of how the treasure collector examined the cave. It was a mess. Dozens of scrolls piled haphazardly on tables and chairs, towers of books reached the ceiling, bookshelves already stuffed, with rows and rows of jarred herbs scattered on the floor. There was barely enough room for three people, let alone a dragon. A map of Litska, full of vibrant reds and greens and blues with edges turned gold, was pinned to the wall. The map was over five hundred years old, worth a fortune, but it belonged to Mankato’s mother, so she couldn’t give it away.

Cephras had just finished trimming Mankato’s claws, leaving him alone to celebrate his freedom when an unfamiliar voice said, “Hello! Anybody home?”

She stiffened; she thought she had hidden the cave better. The three of them were silent as the voice called again, “Hello! Where are you, my dearest one?”

She held her breath, hoping that the person would eventually leave. “Ah, well, I suppose I must come inside!” the voice said cheerfully. Mankato looked at her in panic.

“Hide Mankato,” Cephras hissed to Lock, “I’m going to boost him off our property,”

Lock nodded, and she bolted towards the entrance of the cave. There was a young man standing outside; his clothes a rich dark red with sleeves of pearly white. His teeth were white and straight and he had eyes that said he knew what he wanted and he was going to get it. Terrific. He was just about to step into the ward when she appeared before him, “Can I help you, sir?”

She prayed that he would be stupid. “My dear maiden, I heard your sweet voice singing in the meadow and I have come to slay whatever magical heathen has imprisoned thee,” the man smiled at her charmingly, and she fought the urge to snort.

A witch once told her that her voice made ears bleed. She pasted a smile on her lips, nice but distant and polite, “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, sir. The only heathens here are the snakes and the spiders and the rats,” Especially the two-legged ones, she thought.

“How dreadful for a beautiful maiden like yourself! Come with me to my father’s kingdom, and we will never have to see this place again!” he offered his hand dramatically while his face turned the opposite direction, like he was expecting to look at his reflection. The air was a poor substitute.

“Thank you, kind sir, but I must refuse. My home is not far from here, and I’d rather stay with my family.”

“So, you have a wicked family then!” the man announced,” You must have if you were ordered to travel alone.”

“No, I wanted to,” Cephras said through gritted teeth,” and I would appreciate it if we could part ways.”

The man appeared shocked. He looked like one of the princes from those fairytales, tall, handsome, and stupid.

“You mean to tell me that you aren’t a beautiful damsel in distress that’s waiting for a handsome prince to take her away so they can live happily ever after?” He gaped.

“Correct,” she said. He appeared to be warring against himself, before shaking his head, as though clearing his conscience.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m sure we can make you a special case,” he grabbed her wrist, and tried to pull her along.

She dug her heels into the ground, “Let go of me, right this instant,” her voice was colder than ice.

“Darling, you’re in a cave all alone without decent feminine clothes. It would be best if you left. Can’t you see I’m doing you a favor?”

His words made her stop. If she kept fighting, Mankato might come after her. As annoying and stupid as he was, the prince would know a dragon when he saw one. But if she left...

She was ready to agree when the scoundrel tried to snake his arm around her waist. She stomped on his foot, her heel grinding his toes. He yelped.

He leaned closer, his grip on her wrist threatening to crush the fragile bones, his voice dark, “Now darling, that wasn’t very nice-- “

WHOOSH.

An intense stream of blue fire flew at them as the prince, letting out a high-pitched squeal, untangled himself from her quickly, causing them both to fall on their butts.

“Sorry about that,” Lock appeared at the entrance, looking unapologetic,” Some of the salamander’s breath escaped.” He held a vial that was broken in two for both of them to see.

The prince gaped,” A salamander? Where did you find one?”

“Well, they usually like cool places like river banks and caves, but they always scamper off when they see something stupid,” Lock helped her up, glaring at the prince,” Thanks to you, their rest was disturbed and they started shooting fire all over the place.”

“I see,” the prince was pale,” but I was supposed to take this maiden with me- “

“That won’t be necessary. She is more capable than you. If you don’t get out now, the salamanders won’t have any trouble deciding what’s for dinner.” The look on the treasure collector’s face shut the prince up, causing him to bolt. As they walked back, Cephras looked over her shoulder every few steps to make sure no one was following them. Mankato was huffing and puffing, thick white smoke billowing from his nostrils.

Cephras coughed, “Mankato, stop that! We need to breathe!”

Mankato seethed. “I should have set him on fire.”

“You couldn’t do that! What if you were discovered- “

” Opposed to what?! Letting my best friend get kidnapped?”

“He knows our location,” she told them,” If that idiot could find us, then more people can.”

“When do we leave?” Lock asked.

“Tonight. We can only take a few things; too much will slow us down.” She said grimly, knowing their belongings would end up as loot. Lock shook his head.

“Don’t be silly, we can take everything with us.”

“But-”

“Watch,” Lock opened his bag, snapping his fingers, “All right, listen up, everyone! We’re going on a field trip! There’s plenty of room and no time to waste! Come on!”

To her surprise, books and potions started flying off their shelves, turning tinier than her pinky nail, before disappearing into the bag. Her cabinets, her pillows, her cooking supplies-soon the entire cave was empty in minutes.

***

They left on foot, avoiding the possibility of being spotted during takeoff. After walking for a few miles, they decided to set up for camp. Lock was in charge of food while she set up the wards. Little spheres of glowing yellow light floated into the sky, meeting and bonding, becoming bigger, stronger, flowing from her fingertips. She wove them, flicking her fingers, teasing them, causing them to float up and up and up, forming a large barrier facing all directions, including the sky and underground. She rubbed loose strands of dark and oak-colored hair with an old dragon scale, crushing and sprinkling them into the barrier. It would protect them for a few hours if they were under attack, allowing them to escape. If it didn’t, then she had a backup plan.

“Impressive,” Lock handed her a bowl of steaming stew made of roots and two hares Mankato caught that afternoon. She shrugged, “Not really. If I had proper training then this would be bigger and more secure.”

“What do you mean?”

She took a bite of her stew, “When the queen took over eight years ago, she banned commoners from practicing magic. She said commoners weren’t knowledgeable enough to control their powers so it would put everyone in danger.”

“So that’s why you lived in a cave?” He said. She shrugged,” Keeping Mankato safe is all that matters to me. Magic is the only thing it’s good for.” She stood up, brushing the dirt and grass off of her pants,” I’m going to scout the area. Keep an eye on Mankato, will you?”

“Oh, you trust me now?” He raised an eyebrow. She shrugged, “I assume you’re smart enough not to try anything funny. If you aren’t, then you’re in for an unpleasant surprise.”

Whistling. They were constantly surrounded by whistling, piercing, chirping, bursts of air that threatened to rival the birds’ constant chatter.

Whistling. From a green dragon.

Cephras eyed her friend who pranced through the woods like he didn’t have a single care in the world. As if the appearances of hunters, assassins, knights or mountain hags were impossible.

Cephras didn’t like impossible things because that made them more possible.

She looked at Lock, trying to gauge his reaction.

The treasure collector had been rather quiet for most of the trip, walking with his hands linked at the back of his head, his gait similar to skipping rocks in a crystal lake, no storm in sight.

It was rather odd that he wasn’t joining in the forest orchestra. He didn’t exclaim at or mutter at the sounds of wildlife or bits of rock that threatened to overturn and twist their ankles. He didn’t speculate whether or not a cave was the entrance to a secret city.

He didn’t make a sound, like his lips were sewn shut.

Cephras took a look at their surroundings, full of trees, slippery rocks and unrelenting roots that rose from the ground, tempting, threatening them to fall.

They were walking in a sort of diagonal formation, Mankato in the middle, Lock in the front, and Cephras in the back. She wished that they could cover more angles, even walk together side by side, but it wasn’t possible.

The farther they traveled toward Litska’s borders, the more clustered the trees were. Spruces, maples, and evergreens bowed their heads together as though they were melded into one, if they could blend in with the rest of their surroundings and melt into the atmosphere.

It had been three days since they had left the cave.

Cephras felt eyes digging trenches into her back, carving and twisting, her forehead sweating, her hands and feet clammy.

Stop it, she lectured herself sternly. No one was out to get them. There was no one there. Her cloaking spells were working. She triple-checked everything-the recipe, the ingredients, everything was going to be fine.

They were going to be fine.

They were going to make it to the border, toward the Rengarian Mountains, toward safety. She could almost taste how close they were, the crunch of leaves, the coldness, the change of temperature, the sight of fallen snow.

All in twenty or so miles.

She could almost taste it.

The taste of fallen ash.

“Look Cephras! A butterfly!” Mankato’s voice yanked her back from her reverie and she saw the dragon lumbering after the small, creamy-yellow fluttering creature. He swiped at it, the butterfly easily evading capture.

The dragon was fast, but the butterfly was faster.

She watched him, the overgrown house cat trying to get a closer look at his new friend.

The heavier the creature, the harder the fall.

Mankato was rather fixated on the tiny creature, so Lock and Cephras stopped to watch the young dragon play.

“I don’t know how he can play at a time like this,” she muttered.

“I think it’s admirable,” the treasure collector said, “how he can find pockets of joy like this. Not many people can.”

Didn’t mean that it made her job any easier.

She watched the sparkle of his golden eyes, heard his lighthearted shouts. She couldn’t help but wonder. Would he still be as cheerful twenty years from now?

Sixty?

A hundred?

She chuckled to herself darkly. She was too busy keeping him alive day by day to worry about whether or not he would live years into the future.

“That may be so, but is he truly living if he can’t find happiness?” Lock asked.

She hadn’t realized that she spoke her thoughts aloud.

He was still looking at Mankato’s playing, the dragon was oblivious to his friends’ observations.

She couldn’t give him joy.

“I would rather him be lonely than be killed,” she said grimly.

“Why can’t he be happy and free?”

“You’re acting like that’s a choice.”

Cephras couldn’t help the snort that escaped the back of her throat. What kind of world did he think they lived in?

The very idea was ridiculous.

So was his reply.

“Isn’t it?”

Before she could answer, he turned to Mankato,” Oi, friend, we need to get going.”

The dragon turned to his little companion,” All right. Goodbye Master Butterfly!”

He left the butterfly alone, rejoining the others.

Mankato was almost skipping.

***

A week later, Cephras was returning to their new camp site with firewood when she heard shouts and clinking of armor, the screams of swords sliding through their scabbards. The knights. She dropped the wood, and unsheathed her dagger, running toward the direction of the sounds. The trio had traveled closer and closer to Litska’s borders, but they hadn’t been fast enough. The barrier held as the knights threw spears, stabbed it with their swords, swung their maces, charging with their stallions. They tried to climb over the barrier, sliding and crashing, the night’s whispering overwhelmed by screams as metal met flesh. She saw their eyes, ghoulish, coallike, their emptiness warring against the frantic movements, wide and stiff, without control of their own bodies. She imagined the queen’s fingertips dancing, moving the men, her laughter icicles of trapped poison and perfume. Lock and Mankato were already up, the treasure collector climbing onto the dragon’s back.

“Hurry up, Cephras!” Lock called. She dodged a spear thrown by a knight, causing him to hurt his companion instead,” I’m trying!”

Twelve steps. Five steps. Three. One of her feet slipped inside the barrier. She was going to make it!

A hand grabbed her ankle and yanked, causing her to fall. She was dragged out of the barrier. A knight was on top of her, ready to swing. She kicked him, first on his chin, and then his tender bits. He groaned.

“Fly!” she ordered the dragon. He hesitated. “But-”

“Do it!” she yelled and with a tightened jaw, the dragon obeyed. He unfurled his emerald wings and shot up to the sky, giving her the perfect opportunity to slam the weakened barrier with her magic-infused dagger. The world was fire.

She was a balloon, all swelled up and filled with water, tender to the touch.

“Wakey, wakey.” A cold hand placed itself on her cheek, almost numbing the pain. Cephras opened her eyes and found herself staring into ones the color of coal, a face with milky skin and blood red lips. Her eyes looked at her necklace, little green jewels that softly glowed. Not jewels. Scales. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She blinked again, and they were ruby.

The queen smiled slowly at her reaction, revealing two rows of perfect white teeth, “You caused a lot of trouble for my men, dear, making them carry you all this way. You would’ve died too, but little cockroaches like you are so hard to get rid of,”

The queen threw her from the chair that she was sitting in onto the floor, examining her tainted hands. They were inside a cell. Cephras scanned her surroundings, the only decorations that adorned this place were large chunks of rubble, as if the sky had fallen down and broken into a million jagged pieces.

The queen frowned, slightly distorting her placid face, “I just don’t understand why you’re so against me. Aren’t you tired of having men telling you what you can and can’t do? You have the potential to be so much more if you do the right thing.”

By killing dragons? Cephras looked directly into the queen’s eyes, but said nothing. The queen sighed, “A disobeying child is a nuisance, and your kind never listens to reason. I suppose that’s what you’d expect from a killer.”

Killer.

She felt the trapdoor of her stomach fall, slamming and plummeting her into nothing. Killer. She murdered those men with her magic to protect her friend. She knew what would happen, but she still did it. She barely registered the queen ordering her maids to dress Cephras like a doll, in a rich eggplant silk gown, her hair pinned painfully to her scalp, jewels at her throat. Her bracelets were manacles, draining her of her magic, feeding it into her prison. She could feel her magic leaving her body the way a bag filled with sand had a slit; slowly trickling, left with nothing. When the maids finished, two burly footmen entered, wearing the queen’s colors of blood red and white.

They grabbed Cephras’ arms painfully, forcing her to her feet, before dragging her out of the cell, down the halls, down the stairways covered in cobwebs and shadow. The wind himself didn’t dare to make a sound. The footmen twisted and turned, taking her down pathways that looked exactly the same, until they reached a large looming mahogany door decorated with steel.

One of the footmen knocked on the door. Knock. Knock. Knock. The door groaned as it slowly swung open, revealing hundreds of eyes staring back at them. The queen sat on her throne, the husk of a stone cockatrice, its ugly head curled around her feet. “Look what I found!” The queen gestured to Cephras as the footmen dragged the girl closer. The crowds tittered. They were ghastly wedding cakes, dressed in pastels and brutal oranges, faces grotesquely pinched, trying to see who could survive the most hits. They poked and prodded her as they passed, whispering to their companions and darting suspicious glances in her direction.

“Monster.”

“Lunatic.”

“Murderess.”

The words zipped and slashed across the air, trying to squeeze and fit into every orifice of the girl’s body. Judging by the queen’s glittering smile, it was her idea. When they were five feet from the queen, the footmen forced her to her knees, pinning her head to the ground.

“My people,” the queen’s voice rang triumphantly, “kneeling before us now is our victory. When I first became queen, I promised that I would hear you, that I would protect you, that I would fight for you, and I have. Since we started our campaign, no country dares to infiltrate our land! No one can touch us! This child is the last remnant of the draconian age, when our kingdom was populated with traitors who cared more about these monsters than their own kind. They supported these creatures who stole your gold, your cattle, killing your families because they could. This child is poison, just like her parents.” The crowd hissed.

“Liar.”

The room was filled with hushed whispers, tittering with nervous laughter. The word slipped out of Cephras’ mouth involuntarily, but she didn’t take it back. The queen’s voice was dangerously calm, a river stabbed with ice, “What,”

“The dragons and their allies wanted peace. They wanted to share their culture with us. They weren’t thieves or murderers that took what they wanted. They did whatever they could to survive. Just like us,”

The room buzzed with murmurs and hushed whispers, building and smothering each other, growing louder and louder, members of the crowd exchanging nervous glances. Clap. Clap. Clap. The sounds were quick and final, one after the other, soft yet deafening. The sound of the queen’s hands coming together, her voice pitying, saccharinely sweet. “That’s what they made you believe, my dear,” The queen’s eyes were mocking Cephras, her lips pulling back, revealing rows of teeth, glittering and sharp. Cephras glared, “It’s the truth.”

The crowd tittered. 

“Now, now, my dears,” the queen was pleased, “We must bid our new friend welcome,” The queen beckoned her to come closer, pointing to a spot next to her, on the right.

“My dear, why don’t you stand by me?”

The first time, she resisted. She dug her heels into the ground. The footmen pushed her towards the queen, she jabbed one of them with her elbow, the blow landing on his stomach. The footmen didn’t even flinch. They tried to make her step forward; she tried to run away. The crowd watched. They laughed. That was the first time.

After five months, she obeyed.

There were mirrors all over the halls, replacing tapestries, portraits, and banners of the crown, the queen craving the constant assurance of her reflection. No one else looked inside them. No one wanted to. Cephras, knowing the mirrors were watching her as she passed, suddenly stopped on her way to the queen’s throne room where the court was waiting. She didn’t know why she turned her head. Maybe she hoped she looked like the pastel courtiers.

Her sandalwood skin was sandpaper, rough and unyielding and unforgiving, taut with juicy blisters and leftover scabs from the barrier’s explosion. Her hair, chunks of it missing, had tresses that were awkward and stiff, trying to grow out again. The queen kept her from dying. She took care of the blood, the liquid that had started to trickle into her lungs when she was lying on the ground in the world of fire. But she never took care of the blisters, the patches of dead skin that sometimes fell off to replace the new. Realizing she was going to be late, Cephras ran to the throne room. She was about to go inside when she felt someone tug her sleeve. She looked down.

It was a child.

A little boy dressed in garish greens and blues speckled with orange stood next to her. His large floppy orange hat kept falling over his eyes, and his clothes were far too big. She had never seen a child in the castle. He tugged on her sleeve again.

“What is it, boy?”

“I need to give you something,” the boy said.

Cephras frowned, “Why?”

“Because I made a promise,” the boy pushed his floppy hat back, revealing oak colored hair. Clink. Clack. Clink. Something tinkled when the boy moved. It was a pouch attached to his belt, one that banged and clinked and clacked and tinkled as he rolled back and forth on the balls of his heels. She gaped. He smiled.

“How--”

“If I tell you now, then it would ruin the suspense.” Lock said. She squinted at him, noticing that his appearance blurred at the edges. A glamour. It was a miracle he hadn’t been thrown out of the palace yet. But a bigger question popped into her head, and there were ants crawling under her skin.

“But where is-” 

“Ah, ah, ah. No spoilers.” Lock, still looking like a child, wagged his finger at her,” No point in letting you ruin all the fun.”

“But-”

“Just relax. Go in there and act natural. I’ll find you when you’re done,” he patted her hand.

The trumpets blared. She blinked and then he was gone. She went inside. The queen had suddenly called for all of her court to arrive in a public audience, causing everyone to wonder what the occasion was.

Was someone being demoted? Executed? After the queen arrived, dressed in snow white, they didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“My dear friends,” the queen’s voice purred, silencing the rest of the room, “I found something quite peculiar three days ago, and I thought that it would be time to share.”

The queen snapped her fingers, “Bring him in,”

Cephras saw his legs first, thick, strong, and sure, stepping one foot after the other, the mirrors reflecting the rich emerald green with soft grassy tones, emanating a soft green glow all around the room.

Why.

His head held high, his tail lowered, he didn’t seem scared of the ten knights that circled him with spears that sizzled as lightning crackled. He didn’t flinch as one got a little too close and a spark flared.

Why.

Cephras’ fingernails bit into her palms, harder with each step he took. Her knees clacked sharply, repeatedly, against each other, believing that if they met fast enough, if they hit each other hard enough, they would be crushed into powder.

He was standing in front of the queen. She didn’t bother rising. He didn’t bother bowing. His eyes weren’t focused on the queen, they were off-kilter. The queen didn’t like that. “Do you know why you’re here, dragon?” the queen asked, her voice could cut through stone. He still didn’t look at the queen; Cephras wished he did. 

“I’m here because I came here,” His clear golden eyes were fixed on his former caretaker, she could feel him taken in her blisters and her scabs and her pearls and her jabbing pins and her smothering pink dress. She was swallowed by his smoldering golden eyes.

Monster.

Lunatic.

Murderess.

Her friend was standing in the queen’s palace and Lock helped him do it. She was

Monster.

Lunatic.

Murderess.

For nothing.

The queen’s soft voice slowly trickled into her ears, forming words instead of just blankets of sound, like dying from hypothermia and craving the cold.

“... I think the dragon would be wonderful entertainment in our parades, at least, until it’s time for harvest,” the queen was saying, and the entire court cheered. Cephras didn’t say a word, her insides twisting and wrenching, trying to set themselves free. The queen wanted a brand-new necklace. Cephras tried to tap into her magic, failing because of the manacles on her wrists. Her limbs were floppy, heavy, limp pieces of flesh that hung from her shoulders’ sockets. She would’ve done anything to have a burst of her talent to create a distraction, to let her friend escape, but her magic practically didn’t exist. Useless. A maid suddenly rushed to the queen’s side, curtsying before whispering in her ear, her voice too quiet for Cephras to hear. The queen’s triumphant expression flickered, her skin the color of curdled milk, her eyes black, little and beady, like a rat’s.

Her expression calmed, “Excuse me for one moment.”

The queen turned to the guards, pointing at Mankato,” Take him to the menagerie for now. I want our guest to be as comfortable as possible.”

The queen rose from her throne, her gait brisk yet unhurried, graceful and intentional as she left the room, her audience quite forgotten. The maid and the guards followed, the courtiers scattered like fallen petals in a drearily humid day. Cephras tried to meet Mankato’s eyes, running after him and the guards.

“Wait!”

Slash.

Shink.

The guards’ spears and halberds stopped her from moving closer, their points barely touching her the skin beneath her collarbone. Saying nothing. Mankato kept walking. 

“Finally, I thought they’d never leave.” An older man with streaks of gray in his oak-colored hair walked into the room until he was standing next to her.

She wanted to hurt him, “Lock, how could you sell him out like that? You signed a contract- “

“And I’m fulfilling it now,” he interrupted her,” I’m sorry it took so long to come but I didn’t have the ingredients I needed. I just realized a couple days ago that I needed something from here to make this work,”

She raised an eyebrow at him, “Make what work?”

He removed his satchel, setting it down, opening it, and looking at her, “In you go,”

Cephras wasn’t amused,” Not funny, Lock.”

“I’m not trying to be funny,” His expression was grim, “This will take you where you’re both going to be safe.”

She didn’t believe him.

“Mankato was captured by the guards and taken to the menagerie,” she said.

He frowned, “What? No, he wasn’t.”

She glared, “I literally just saw him.”

He shook his head, “No, you don’t understand. He’s with an old friend-"

A scuffling sound scratched at the door. Lock turned his head to look, his voice trailing off.

She glared at the back of his head,” An old friend? Really?”

Lock, stiffening at what he’d seen, shoved her into the satchel before she could turn around, Cephras tumbling headfirst, falling down down down until she landed hard onto smooth solid ground.

Sulfurous breath ruffled her hair and tickled her face. A flash of emerald green scales and golden eyes hovered above her. A warm smile, the kind reserved for grass.

“There you are, Cephras,”

A boulder settled itself inside her chest, leaving Cephras unable to move. She opened her eyes wider. Blinked them.

Open.

Close.

Open.

Close.

Her eyes complained, wanting her to decide. What to focus on. But Cephras didn’t want them to focus in case he disappeared.

Something hard nudged her foot gently, “Come on, Cephras. You need to get up,”

This had to be a trick.

He was in the menagerie.

She saw him walking towards the queen with that lumbering gait of his. Heard his voice. Saw his eyes. The way he looked at her. She knew every part of him, every feature. This had to be a mistake.

He left her.

She left him.

She was alone.

A huff of exasperation and sulfurous air blew on her face, the mirage still talking in her friend’s voice, “You’ve never shown any interest in grass for years and now you refuse to leave it. Why didn’t you appreciate it sooner?”

His voice was teasing, but his words still stung.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled.

The weight on her chest lightened, turning into a pillowcase filled of goose feathers, ready to pop from the sudden change of altitude, making it easier for her to breathe. 

He gently rested his nose on her chest. She sat up, wrapping her arms around it tightly as he lifted her to her feet. She didn’t let go.

The dragon’s facial scales were rough and chafed her hands, but she didn’t care, and Mankato didn’t move away.

As they continued to stand there together, Cephras started to believe that he was real.

But after a while, the young dragon had enough of her coddling.

“Cephras, I’m glad to see you too, but I really need to breathe,” The dragon’s voice was muffled.

Cephras quickly stepped away from her dragon friend as she looked around. They were in a grassy field, one that was miles away from a million glittering lights. There weren’t any buildings, smoke, or fires or screams. There was only life, lush and green and full of chatter.

Of birds and squirrels and faeries and nymphs, of whispers and gasps and silent laughter.

“Where’s Lock?”

She frowned. She remembered him shoving her into his satchel, but she thought he jumped in afterwards. It didn’t seem like anyone was there, but people were always hiding in the shadows. If she called for him, they would find her and Mankato.

But he mattered too.

She cupped her hands around her mouth, “Lock? Where are you?”

No answer.

They started walking together, calling for him, their voices raising, the treasure collector’s name ceased to be a question, instead an exclamation. When her throat was dry and her voice was a rustle of parchment paper, she heard a loud groan from her left. A few feet away, surrounded by the underbrush, was Lock.

He was curled in the grass, back in his original form, covered in scratches, his clothes torn. He was shivering on a bright summer’s day.

They hurried over to him, Cephras reaching for her bag of herbs, but finding that her little pouch was gone.

Her pouch.

She forgot that the queen had her things taken away. They were probably rotten by now anyway. She knelt beside the treasure collector, feeling his forehead.

It wasn’t warm, but he was muttering under his breath.

She leaned down until her ear was a few inches away from his lips, trying to catch his words.

“Satchel. Need satchel. She can’t have it. No. No. No. Satchel. Where is it where is it where is it. Satchel…”

The satchel wasn’t attached to his person. She opened her mouth to ask Mankato if he had come across it, but Mankato dropped it at the young man’s side before she could.

“It was by one of the bushes a little ways from here,” the dragon frowned,” You’d think he would be wearing it.”

Cephras heaved the hefty satchel with both hands before lowering it onto Lock’s chest, placing his hands on top of it,” It’s right here, Lock. You’re touching it right now. She doesn’t have it. It’s right here. It’s right here.”

He stopped murmuring for a bit.

She waited for him to move, to say something, but he went limp after that. She looked at Mankato, “We can’t stay here.”

“I know.”

She pursed her lips, “Do you think that you can carry him on your back? Lock told me that he took you to one of his friends- “

Mankato nodded, “He did, well, almost.”

Her eyes narrowed, “What do you mean almost?”

Mankato’s left foreclaw scraped the dirt, “I mean that we were going to get there but we didn’t because we couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Her tone could have blistered ice.

“Because you were blocked, that’s why,” a deep voice rumbled.

They looked for the source of the voice but couldn’t find anything.

“On your left, you imbeciles,”

There, sitting on a large gray boulder, smooth due to the erosion of time, was a dragon. 


End file.
